When Louis was a boy, he liked to look up at the sky. He was always mesmerised by its beauty; by how bright and dazzling it looked during the day, the sun beaming and the clouds moving gracefully across the blue canvas, and even more so at night, when the moon was glowing and the stars made everything seem magical.
But then he met Harry Styles.
And he didn't have to look to the sky anymore.
Because when Harry smiled, he shined. He beamed just like the sun, too bright, "don't stare too long, or you might go blind." And he wasn't the most graceful of blokes, but he was soft and innocent on the outside, even though you knew he couldn't possibly be. He was a cloud, embodied.
But when he fucked, he was the moon. He glowed and glistened and Louis wouldn't have been able to take his eyes away if he wanted to.
And when he came, he was the stars, pure bliss and magic and unbelievably high, up, up, up in the sky and he would clench around Louis and bring him right up there with him, both of them floating around in the sky, impossibly high and in a sick way Louis feels like a child again, mesmerised by the sky.